That Old Familiar Feeling
by Morelenmir
Summary: Lost on a road trip in Georgia, Castle has an interesting encounter when he turns to the beautiful owner and tender of Bree's Bar for aid. Slight crossover between Castle, The Vampire Diaries and Firefly.


Gina Torres - absolutely gorgeous woman and kick-ass. I don't why she hasn't turned up in _Castle_ yet, so I had to take some creative liberties when I saw her in _The Vampire Diaries_. *wink* More "New Neighbours" will be up soon - I was too busy watching/enjoying/groaning at the insufferable angst of _everyone_ in the latest season to write!

* * *

"I don't suppose you would have a map handy for a poor lost soul, would you?"

She flipped her chocolate curls out of her eyes to regard the owner of the voice. He was good enough to look at, and he certainly projected the "lost" part, but "poor" was an inappropriate usage of the word. Crisp buttoned-up shirt, comfortable Italian leather jacket, and decidedly rogueish eyes sparkled at her from under well-groomed brown hair.

"What makes you, good sir, think I would spare any for you?" Bree replied, sauntering to the end of the bar and cocking a saucy eyebrow at him across the counter. A dazzling, and surely practiced, grin was her answer.

"Uh, 'cause I _am_ lost and I have somewhere I need to be," he winked conspiratorially, "and my mother will kill me if I don't make it. Or she'll at least never let me forget. Come to think about it, death might be preferable."

She found herself laughing. Damn, he's good. She turned to the register and rummaged for a moment in the cabinet beneath before locating a bedraggled map. "Where you headed, mister?"

"Please, call me Castle. Or Richard if you prefer." His eyes were laughing again and the corners were crinkled from a matching smile that managed to not be a leer. Bree caught herself smiling back openly, enjoying his infectious cheer.

"Ah, but Castle is much more interesting," she winked flirtatiously.

He grinned and then looked down at the map. "Let's see, I'm heading for Jacksonville."

"Bit of a drive from…" she let her voice trail off inquiringly.

"Oh, New York City. I convinced my daughter it would be a fun road trip." Castle's questing finger located his desired city. "Okay. I have it. Now, where am I again?" he asked, switching his gaze from the spread map to her dark eyes.

She chuckled, "Bree's Bar." He pouted dramatically and she continued, "Here, let me show you." He followed her finger along the highway back out to the interstate and nodded.

"Right. Pretty sure I got it," he said confidently and gathered up to head for the door.

"Sure you'll be all right?"

"Yep. My daughter's in the car and she's way better at directions than me, so she'll remember." Bree saw his face soften and eyes become tender for a swift instant, and then were replaced by a smooth, cocky expression. "See you around, Bree," he said suavely, tipping an invisible hat and stepping out into the afternoon sunlight. She shook her head with a small smile. The man would surely get lost again.

Snagging the map, she tapped her bartender to let him know she was stepping out, and walked outside. Oh yes, he definitely had money; the car was solid testament to that. A pale red-haired girl sat in the passenger seat, laughing up at Castle, who threw his hands heavenward in exaggerated bewilderment.

"Oh, Castle," Bree called, raising her hand in a half-wave, half-summon. He turned, blue eyes squinting across at her. She held up the map with an emphasizing paper-crunkling wiggle. "Thought you should take this along with you anyhow, so you don't get…misdirected."

The redhead grinned, lighting her face with a teasing expression as she called, "Thanks! Dad wouldn't use a map to save his life." She added a dramatic eye roll—it plainly ran in the family. "You'd have to all but cast a spell on him," she grinned.

"Ouch, my manly pride is being diminished!" Castle complained childishly. He was simply met with matching smirks. "I can never win."

The two women ignored his mutterings and Bree walked to the girl's side of the car to hand her the map. "Bree," she said, offering her hand to Castle's daughter.

"Alexis."

"Nice to meet you and know someone responsible is looking after him."

Castle's resultant and indignant "Hey!" was ignored.

"Then thank you again, Bree. It's good to know my hard work is noticed."

"What…hey!"

"What're you heading for in Jacksonville?" she asked.

"Conference," Castle butted in.

"Book authors, publishers, agents, and so on," Alexis continued. "Dad is one of the speakers." There was a significant note of pride in her voice.

"Are you an author, Castle?" Bree leaned against the car, shading her eyes as she looked at him.

"Ah, yeah," he shrugged deprecatingly. "I've written a few books." A snort came from his daughter's side of the car. "More than a few," he corrected.

She nodded. "Nice. Well, I won't keep you, so…maybe I'll see you next time."

"Maybe." Oh, that grin was unmistakably a leer. She narrowed her eyes at him, but that didn't stop the grin from growing even broader. "And thanks for the offer, but we don't really need a map; just needed to get my bearings is all."

She suppressed an eye roll, but not a sigh as she turned to Alexis. "Hey honey, I _am_ a witch, so if you would like that spell you mentioned…" she tipped her head meaningfully in Castle's direction.

Alexis giggled and Castle's ears pricked. "What kind of witch?"

She leveled his libido with a harsh glare. "Head on your way, Castle. Keep him in the right direction, girl, and make sure he gets on I-95," she stage-whispered.

"Sure thing," the teenager replied.

Castle slid comfortably into the driver's seat and glanced up at Bree. "But, are you really--"

Bree walked around the car to lean down to his seated height. "More things in heaven and on earth, Castle, more things," she said confidentially, then patted him on the shoulder. As the statuesque black woman walked back to the comforting half-lit interior of her bar, she added over her shoulder, "And maybe we'll meet again someday."

Castle turned. "Do you think…"

"I don't think, Dad. Sometimes with you around it's dangerous."

He harrumphed quietly, but a pensive look was in his eye as he started the car and left with a well-powered growl of engines sounding his departure. A thought drifted behind.

_I wonder…_

* * *

"Zoe?"

"Yes sir?"

"You ever get the feeling we've met before?"

"No sir."

"Hm."

"Sir?"

"Yeah?"

"Duck."

He obliged and she pitched one of their precious remaining frag grenades through the gap in the ruined wall that had previously been blocked by his head.

He continued, "Are you sure?"

"Never been to Shadow in my life before the war and meeting you, sir."

"Hm," he nodded and resumed his ruminating.

She plucked her battered oculars from their pocket and peered through a peephole to watch the damage from her deadly gift. A grim expression on her face, she nodded and added another tally to a growing count on the wall.

"Zoe?"

She resisted the compelling urge to hit him with a chunk of rubble or a stray fist. "Yes sir?"

"Now, are you absolutely pos--"

"Yes sir!" she snapped.

"All I was gonna say was, are you," he floundered briefly, "uh, is your score-keeping accurate?"

Her eyes nearly rolled of their own accord. "Can't say, sir. It's impossible to tell, short of going out there."

"Ah. Well, we'll just not do that."

She gave up and rolled her eyes. "Yes sir."

Silence fell between the entrenched two, broken irregularly by violent, earth-shaking explosions and the sound of screams, rising and falling, some closer than others, some abrupt and short, and others drawn out and seemingly unending.

"Zoe?"

She bit her lip to stop the scream welling up inside and replied shortly, "Yes sir?"

"Er, nothing."

She chose to not dignify that one with a response.

He began to hum, tapping his fingers on the stock of his scarred rifle. His lack of rhythm was painful to behold and worse to listen to.

"Sir!"

"Yeah?"

Now it was her turn to flounder. "Ah…" Nothing convenient came to mind and she blurted out the first thing to make its hesitant way into the forefront of her conscious mind, "I am descended from witches."

"Oh." A close-by explosion punctuated the pause. "Really."

"Um, yes. Sir." She was glad for the layers of grime on her face, for then surely he couldn't see her flush.

"That's interesting." He leaned forward to take a gander of the destroyed countryside through the similarly destroyed stone wall and then settled back, seeming to huddle inside his filthy clothing and staring at a particularly offensive patch of dirt between his outstretched feet.

Equal parts relieved and concerned by his brooding, she shifted uncomfortably.

"Zoe?"

"Yes sir?"

"Any chance you can hex them or something, make 'em go loopy in the brainpan?"

Unexpectedly, she grinned. "No sir. Sorry sir."

He shrugged easily. "Figured I oughta ask."

She nodded and they resumed their relative quiet.

"Hey Zoe, you sure?"

_Thunk._

"Aiyow!"

"Watch your head, sir. Bricks are falling just everywhere."


End file.
